


snakes, meth labs and something like love

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Craigslist, M/M, does contain snakes, does not actually contain a meth lab
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 06:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6841771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Did you know snakes can give birth to between ten and 150 babies at any one time?"</p><p>Matsukawa tenses. "And how many have you, um— How many have you found?"</p><p>"Four," Hanamaki sighs, voice shaking slightly with what sounds like pure, unadulterated defeat. "So far."</p>
            </blockquote>





	snakes, meth labs and something like love

**Author's Note:**

> this is absolutely ridiculous

Matsukawa stares warily at the door in front of him for exactly ten seconds before he drags his gaze away and glances at the crumpled wanted ad in his hands. Not for the first time since clicking on the promising looking Craigslist link he wonders if maybe - just _maybe_ \- he’s making a terrible mistake.

Maybe he _can_ survive mooching off the kindness of his friends and living out of a suitcase for a couple more weeks, just until he finds someone a little less— Well. A little less whatever the hell _this_ person is.

He scans the ad again, lips moving soundlessly as rereads the ad to himself for umpteenth time, even though he’s already more or less committed it to memory already. 

>   **ROOMMATE WANTED**
> 
>   1. **Pets are allowed, letting your pregnant snake out of its cage and leaving your bedroom door open is not.**
>   2. **The following things are no longer allowed in the kitchen: microwaved fish, knife throwing, meth labs, Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, and sex.**
>   3. **Please don’t host a tropical beach party while I’m not there. Oikawa, if you’re reading this: I’m still finding sand.**
>   4. **There’s a difference between “having people over” and “hosting a 72-hour X-Files marathon with half the neighbourhood”. Please learn the difference.**
>   5. **I don't care how hot it is, your genitals are never allowed to touch the couch.**
> 

> 
> **If you don't find these guidelines unreasonable, feel free to shoot me an email. Thanks.**

It’s been two weeks since he first saw the ad online and he’s _still_ trying to figure out if it’s all just an elaborate hoax.

Part of him wants to believe it’s a joke because wondering about what the _hell_ the person who posted it has been through with other roommates that could possibly result in such a specific (and really weird) Craigslist ad kind of hurts his brain. But, on the other hand, he also _desperately_ wants it to be real because a) dirt cheap rent and b) he has some _very_ pressing questions involving snakes, meth labs, and someone called Oikawa Tooru.

He’s still trying to figure out if he’s about to become the butt of a very cruel joke _or_ become the roommate of someone very, _very_ , strange when he hears a bloodcurdling scream coming from inside the apartment. There’s a beat of silence (where Matsukawa frantically glances around the empty corridor wondering what the hell he’s supposed to do in this situation. Call the police? Run?), before he hears several loud _thuds_ , following by another, equally piercing, scream, followed by the sounds of wet feet hurriedly slapping against wooden floorboards, followed by—

Matsukawa blanches as the apartment door is flung open and a man comes tumbling out. The look of abject horror plastered across the man's face is enough to make Matsukawa overlook the odd state of dress (or should that be undress?) the man is in.

But only for a second.

Matsukawa feels his cheeks begin to heat up as the novelty of watching a grown man run screaming from his apartment wears off and he’s forced to come to terms with the fact that, aside from a towel wrapped securely (he hopes) around his waist, and a brightly coloured shower cap clinging to his hair, the man is, very much, butt naked.

And dripping wet.

A painfully awkward silence stretches out in front of them as they both grasp around for something to say, because _really_. What _do_ you say in a situation like this?

“Uh. I’m here about the room?” Matsukawa settles on, deciding to just completely ignore the dripping wet, butt naked man in front of him and act like its the most natural thing in the world.

Shower Cap Man (as Matsukawa has so helpfully dubbed him in his mind) scrunches his nose up in apparent confusion before he notices the suitcase and carriers stacked behind Matsukawa and his eyes light up. “ _You’re_ my new roommate?”

“Well. I _could_ be, I thought you’d want to ask a few ques—”

“ _Great,”_ Shower Cap Man sighs, sounding far too relieved as he leans forwards to wrap a hand tightly around Matsukawa’s wrist. “Have you ever caught a snake before?”

“Have I ever— _What_?”

“Don’t worry,” Shower Cap Man says dismissively. “We can improvise.”

And then, before Matsukawa has the chance to ask what the _fuck_ is going on, Shower Cap Man tugs him _and_ his luggage firmly into the apartment and slams the door behind them.

 _Definitely a mistake_ , Matsukawa thinks glumly as he allows his near nude new roommate (apparently) to drag him down the hall. _This is definitely a mistake._

 

 

“She’s kind of cute,” Matsukawa hums thoughtfully, watching as the baby snake curls around itself inside the Tupperware tub they’d managed to coax it into just a few minutes earlier.

Hanamaki - or, the man formerly known as Shower Cap Man - makes a disgruntled noise, glaring at the snake as he quickly thumbs something into his phone. “ _Right_. Remember that when _you’re_ in the shower and you see one of her siblings crawling up the pipe.”

Matsukawa smothers a snort behind his hand as he watches Hanamaki press the phone against his ear, barely waiting for it to connect before he snaps at the unfortunate recipient at the other end of the call.

“I found _another_ one of your snakes, you _prick_.”

Matsukawa barely has any time to disguise his laughter as a weird sort of cough as he hears a muffled shriek of delight coming from the phone, followed by: “ _Belinda? Did you hear that? Uncle Makki found your daughter!_ ” Before Hanamaki mutters a very impressive string of curse words, orders whoever he’s talking to to come and pick up their ‘ _demon worm_ ’ and hangs up the phone without so much as a goodbye.

“Belinda?”

“He named his fucking snake, _Belinda_ ,” Hanamaki says in a long-suffering tone of voice like he's officially given up trying to understand what would make someone name their snake Belinda. “Belinda the Python.”

"Ah," Matsukawa nods like he has a complete understanding of the weird situation he's found himself in and like it _isn't_ ridiculously strange to have just spent the last twenty minutes standing in a cramped bathroom with a complete stranger (who also happens to  _still_ just be wearing a towel - though he _has_ gotten rid of the shower cap now) trying to coax a baby _snake_ of all things into a plastic container. "Is this— Is this a  _regular_ occurrence?" Matsukawa asks tentatively, remembering the way Hanamaki had put a particular emphasis on the word ' _another_ ' while on the phone.

"Did you know snakes can give birth to between ten and 150 babies at any one time?"

Matsukawa tenses. "And how many have you, um— How many have you found?"

" _Four_ ," Hanamaki sighs, voice shaking slightly with what sounds like pure, unadulterated defeat. "So far."

_So. Far._

Matsukawa fights the urge to grab his suitcase and make a run for it; he can handle this. For the blissfully cheap rent Hanamaki is offering, he can handle rogue snakes hiding in pipes. No big deal. 

"So, let me show you to your room," Hanamaki says cheerfully, seemingly taking it for granted that Matsukawa plans to stay without ever actually asking him. "Oh, word of warning, make sure you check your sheets before getting into bed," Hanamaki adds, almost as an afterthought as he pushes himself away from the wall and begins to lead Matsukawa down the corridor. "Those snakes are  _sneaky_ , you know?"

For the second time that afternoon, Matsukawa blanches. Maybe he  _can't_ handle this.

 

 

He's not sure whether it's a good thing or not that he doesn't come across any snakes whilst unpacking.

(And he doesn't even want to  _think_ about the fact that, in the space of one very short hour, the idea of keeping an eye out for loose snakes has actually become  _normalised_ to him.)

On the one hand, he's not sure if he has the stomach to deal with another snake so quickly after the first one, but, on the other hand, he can't help but wonder if the absence of the demon worms - as Hanamaki cheerfully calls them as he points out the dark nooks and cranny's he's become accustomed to finding them in - means they're just very good at hiding.

Neither thought is very comforting.

"So," Hanamaki says, now fully dressed and leaning against the frame of Matsukawa's new bedroom door. "I realise we haven't gotten off to the best of starts."

Matsukawa  _snorts._ "Understatement of the year, my friend." Over the last few years he's had his fair share of awful roommates - there was the guy who considered showering optional, and only did so once every few weeks,  _then_ there was the roommate who was studying  _some_ sort of science related degree and would often bring experiments home, leaving them in the  _shared_ fridge for Matsukawa to mistake as dip on more than one occasion, and who could forget Mister I'm Lactose Intolerant But Eat Nothing But Dairy Products? - but at least with them, they'd had the decency to at least  _act_ like they were moderately normal until a few weeks into the roommate arrangement. 

In the hour they've known each other, Hanamaki has; answered the door in nothing but a towel and an (admittedly, pretty stylish) shower cap, dragged Matsukawa into his apartment without so much as  _greeting_ him  _and_ enlisted him into helping him catch a  _snake_ of all things.

As first meetings go, Matsukawa thinks theirs could possibly win a world record for one of the worst.

"Right," Hanamaki laughs, looking at least a  _little_ sheepish. "Things aren't usually that hectic around here, I swear."

Matsukawa thinks back to the Craigslist ad currently crumpled in his pocket and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, so it  _is_ usually this hectic around here," Hanamaki amends, accurately deciphering Matsukawa's look of disbelief. "But that's only because— That's  _only_ because of former roommates and their ability to attract chaos and destruction everywhere they go, even when they're not even  _there_ anymore, and drag everyone else into it."

"...Right."

"I'm not helping the whole 'terrible first impression' thing, am I?"

"Not even a tiny bit."

"I'll just—" Hanamaki hooks a thumb over his shoulder and takes a step backwards. "I'll just let you get settled then." 

"Thanks," Matsukawa murmurs, watching as Hanamaki bows his head politely before ducking away from the door and making his way down the corridor. He waits until he hears the  _click_ of what he assumes is Hanamaki's bedroom door before he allows a sigh to slip from his lips and he collapses onto his bed.

His eyes flutter shut and he's about two seconds away from falling asleep when he feels something  _slithering_ underneath his blankets.

Matsukawa, understandably,  _shrieks_.

(Though he will vehemently deny any such sound falling from his lips in the coming weeks.)

 

Later that evening, they eventually catch Baby Snake #5, call Oikawa Tooru (the former roommate who is apparently the cause of all the problems in Hanamaki's life - according to Hanamaki) to demand he pay for a  _professional_ to come and find the rest of Belinda's children before Hanamaki ' _burns the place down just to get rid of them_ ', and Matsukawa learns that tearing apart the apartment to hunt for snakes is a  _very_ good way to bond with your new roommate.

* * *

 

Unashamed almost-nudity and snakes potentially lurking in every dark space of their apartment aside, Matsukawa learns very quickly that living with Hanamaki really isn't as strange as he'd once thought it would be.

Hanamaki, he discovers about halfway into his first full day in the apartment, is actually quite nice. Matsukawa might even go so far as to describe Hanamaki as  _very_ nice.

"I'm a fucking  _delight_ ," Hanamaki snorts over breakfast one morning when Matsukawa mentions this.

Matsukawa responds by plucking a cornflake out of his bowl and flicks it at him.

He's three weeks into his stay at  _Casa Matsuhana_ (as Hanamaki has taken to calling it) and he'd be lying if he didn't admit that he's enjoying himself. A side-effect to living in such close proximity with someone, Matsukawa thinks as he shovels a spoonful of cornflakes into his mouth, is that you really can't  _help_ but to get to know them very well.

He learns that Hanamaki is  _easy_.

Easy to talk to, easy to laugh with, easy to sit in comfortable silences with, easy to navigate the morning bathroom routine, easy to  _live_ with. He's been there for less than a month, but already Hanamaki feels like an age-old friend and not a complete stranger.

He learns that Hanamaki is  _not_ a Morning Person™ by any means and is pretty much incapable of coherent speech until he's spent at least twenty minutes under the shower.

He learns that, while Hanamaki likes his showers  _scalding_ (only by virtue of having burned himself several times after stepping in directly after Hanamaki), he hates hot drinks and vehemently refuses any of Matsukawa's offerings of coffee or tea in the morning.

He learns that bringing home a bag of left-over baked goods from the small bakery near his office is the quickest way to Hanamaki's heart and that he has a  _frightening_ sweet tooth.

He learns that Hanamaki not-so-secretly  _adores_ watching crappy science fiction movies so he can point out how  _horrendous_ the CGI is ( _'I mean come_ on _, it's like they didn't even_ try  _to make the sharknado look realistic'_ ) and how terrible the plots are.

He learns that, despite all his bravado and all the threats he makes ( _'Oikawa if I find_ one  _more snake—'_ ) Hanamaki is a fiercely loyal friend.

He learns all of that and then some more.

He learns a lot about Hanamaki but mostly -  _mostly_ \- he learns that he likes him. 

After a string of Awful Roommates™, Hanamaki is like a breath of fresh air.

* * *

 

When he eventually meets Iwaizumi Hajime and _The_ Oikawa Tooru (aka the reason he's taken to sleeping with one eye open), Matsukawa realises that the Craigslist ad makes all the sense in the world.

"-And I wasn't even trying to make a  _real_ meth lab, you know?" Oikawa says, scowling over at Hanamaki. "They were Breaking Bad inspired cocktails, but he comes home one night, takes one look at me in the kitchen, and starts whining about how he's too young to go to jail or something."

"You  _were_ making the cocktails in in test tubes," Iwaizumi says helpfully, apparently noticing the way Hanamaki's fingers have begun to twitch for the remote control, presumably to fling in Oikawa's direction. "What was he supposed to think?"

"Maybe not that I'd taken up  _meth-_ making? _Maybe_?"

"It was during his Breaking Bad phase," Hanamaki mumbles to Matsukawa like that explains everything (and, honestly, it does), while Oikawa goes on a mini rant about how if he  _really_ wanted to take up making meth a la Walter White, he'd be smart enough _not_ to do it in his own apartment - _duh_. "It was just a precaution."

"And  _then_ ," Oikawa says loudly, pointedly ignoring Hanamaki. " _Then_ he put up that  _rude_ ad on Craigslist—  _Honestly_. It makes me seem like the roommate from hell, when I was nothing - nothing, I tell you- but charming and considerate. I even used to cook for him, you know?"

"Microwaved  _fish_ ," Hanamaki says through gritted teeth, nose wrinkling up in disgust. "You microwaved  _fish_. _Once_." 

"It was edible wasn't it?"

"It took _three weeks_ for the smell to disappear."

"So ungrateful, Makki," Oikawa sniffs. "I hope you don't treat Mattsun like this."

"I don't."

And he doesn't.

Matsukawa is still slightly in awe over how he and Hanamaki have managed to slip into such and easy and comfortable routine in only a matter of weeks. More often than not, they eat together at least twice a day, yawning over their breakfast or bitching about their colleagues at work over dinner. Matsukawa catches himself making food for two without even thinking about it, and he's lost count of the number of times Hanamaki has knocked on his bedroom door to ask if he wants to maybe share a pizza or something.

It's nice.

Like they're actually  _friends_ and not just two people forcing themselves to live together like it had been with so many of his other roommates.

 

 

It's very nice.

 

 

"Why are you two banned from the kitchen?"

They're eating dinner in the living room, plastic containers stacked haphazardly on the tiny coffee table because Hanamaki point blank  _refuses_ to let either of the two men step foot in the kitchen.

Iwaizumi immediately chokes on a dumpling, face red.

Oikawa spits out his drink. 

Hanamaki pretends to puke.

"A misunderstanding," Iwaizumi splutters, slapping his chest with his fist.

"He wasn't  _supposed_ to be home so early," Oikawa mutters.

"It doesn't  _matter_ whether I was supposed to be home or not," Hanamaki sighs as if this is a conversation they, unfortunately, had to have at least a handful of times already. "Who the hell has sex in a  _kitchen_?"

"A lot of people," Oikawa says defensively while Iwaizumi looks like he's about five seconds away from leaping out the nearest window. "It's called spicing up your love life, not that you would know  _anything_ about tha—" Oikawa yelps as Hanamaki stabs his fork into the coffee table. 

"And that," Hanamaki says loftily as if he hadn't just come narrowly close to stabbing Oikawa in the hand. "And  _that_ is why these two are banned from the kitchen. Any more questions?"

Matsukawa has many,  _many_ , more questions, but Iwaizumi looks like's close to having an aneurysm and even Oikawa is suspiciously pink, so he shakes his head and decides he'll have plenty of time to ask Hanamaki about it later.

 

 

"And  _remember_ ," Oikawa tells Matsukawa sternly as he tugs his arms through the sleeve of his coat. "Don't host small get-together's with your nearest and dearest, or Makki will  _callously_ throw you out."

"Firstly, that wasn't a 'small get-together'," Hanamaki says, opening the front door and unceremoniously shoving Oikawa out of it. "Secondly, I didn't  _throw_ you out."

"No," Iwaizumi says. "You kicked him out.  _Literally_."

"My ass was bruised for a whole week," Oikawa sighs. "I had to sit on ice."

" _Good_."

"So rude, Makki. So charmless. So cruel. So—  _Ouch._ So  _violent._  Are you taking lessons from Iwa-chan? You see this, Mattsun?" He asks, waving his hands dramatically in Hanamaki's direction. "See what a  _brutish_ roommate I had to deal with?"

"I don't know," Matsukawa hums, glancing at Hanamaki. "Seems pretty alright to me."

"Just wait until he stops  _you_ from having an innocent X-Files marathon with a few close friends."

" _72 hour X-Files marathons are not, and have never been, acceptable, Oikawa_!"

"Say's  _who_?"

"Says  _everyone_."

* * *

 

Somewhere between their fifteenth all-night movie marathon (Hanamaki rarely makes it past midnight and Matsukawa resigns himself to waking up on the sofa with a stiff neck due to their awkward positioning) and their twenty-eighth hastily scarfed down breakfast when they're both running late for work, buttons done up incorrectly on their shirts, and ties a little too short or long, Matsukawa  _thinks_ he falls in something like love.

"I'm just  _saying_ ," Hanamaki says diplomatically, stretched across Matsukawa's bed like he belongs there. "The lions would  _definitely_ win."

Matsukawa quirks a brow. "One trillion lions versus the sun, and you think the lions would win?"

"There are  _one_ trillion lions, Mattsun. One  _trillion_." 

"Do you know how big the sun is?"

"Not as big as one trillion lions, that's for damn sure."

He hums thoughtfully like he's  _actually_ considering a reality where a) one trillion lions exist and b) they live in some sort of dystopian future where they're at war with the sun. "The sun  _is_ pretty hot, though."

"One trillion lions, Mattsun. That's— Well. I can't be bothered to do the math, but that's a  _lot_ of claws."

They've been living together for the better part of a year and days like  _this_ \- lazy days where they don't do much besides enjoy each others company - have become so frighteningly common, Matsukawa finds himself looking forward to them. Finds himself awaiting eagerly for Hanamaki to shuffle into his room (he thinks they stopped locking doors and knocking two months into the arrangement) dressed in his 'I'm Not Leaving The Apartment For _Anything_ ' clothes and plop onto his bed.

Sometimes they don't talk; wrapped up in their own little worlds, content with simply  _enjoying_ the close presence of the other.

Sometimes they watch terrible movies and Hanamaki talks throughout the whole thing, critiquing each and every aspect of it from the awful CGI to the brain-numbing acting to the ' _plot a three-year-old could write_ '. 

Sometimes they nap. Matsukawa's sure neither of them mean for it to happen, but sometimes the _lazy_ element of their lazy day catches up with them and he'll wake up dazed three hours later to find Hanamaki sprawled out in his bed snoring lightly with a thin trail of drool dripping down his chin. 

(The first time this happens is the day Matsukawa  _finally_ downloads Snapchat, and Oikawa is very,  _very_ , grateful for the blackmail material.)

Sometimes they talk about anything and everything and nothing.

Today is one of those days. Matsukawa's not entirely sure how they got started on the topic of one trillion lions versus the sun, but he finds himself weirdly invested in their debate. 

But that's not all that strange. He finds himself weirdly invested in  _everything_ to do with Hanamaki these days.

 _Yep_ , Matsukawa thinks, biting back a laugh as Hanamaki shuffles up the bed, tucking himself seamlessly under Matsukawa's arm to show him an article he's found that goes into the logistics of how one trillion lions could triumph against the sun.  _This is definitely something like love._

**Author's Note:**

> fyi, belinda is #2 on my list of potential pet snake names
> 
> references:  
> [the craiglist ad that inspired this mess](http://cdn29.elitedaily.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/craigslist-roommate-ad-guidelines-elite-daily-02.jpg)  
> [oikawa's cocktail kit](http://www.thinkgeek.com/product/14aa/#tabs)  
> [one trillion lions vs the sun](http://www.newstatesman.com/sites/default/files/images/B7qOpuaIQAA0s0q.jpg)


End file.
